Butterfly Wings
by Nintendian
Summary: The world can be cruel to the fragile ones. - Black, White.


**notes:** I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading as well!

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**butterfly wings**

_the world can be cruel to the fragile ones._

.

She is goading him on, and he knows it. He knows it but he can't do anything about it.

"Just for tonight," White assures him, her promises as sweet as sugar but as fake as her painted nails and shiny red lipstick and saccharine smile. "Please, Black? One night?"

When he hesitates, she looks close to tears. "It'll be fun, I promise!" She's practically begging him now, and for the first time, Black realizes how shattered she is. She is hardly more than a little girl, but the world has been cruel to her, shaped her into what she is now. Through storm and fire, she has become a butterfly with broken wings. Beautiful but delicate, ready to give way and come crashing down at any moment.

It's too much for him to take.

With a sigh, he gives in. This is White, of all people. He can't resist her enticements any more than Adam and Eve could in the garden of Eden. Besides, just one night can't hurt.

Black ends up staying awake all night.

.

It's like an addiction: once you start you can't stop. Because everyone knows love is a drug.

After he knows White has fallen asleep, as he can tell by her soft, slow breathing, he hugs a pillow to his chest and stares at the ceiling, not seeing or hearing anything, his mind completely blank. He will try to forget everything tomorrow, forget that anything like this ever happened. His fingers claw the pillow to shreds and he is left surrounded by soft white feathers, drifting around him in the air like winter snow.

It's beautiful, he thinks, and then the tears finally come.

.

Sometime around one in the morning, White starts having nightmares. She tosses and turns in bed, crying out in her sleep, tears streaming down her face and ruining her mascara. At one point she even lets out a blood-curdling scream.

The cruel thing is, he knows exactly what she's having nightmares about.

Black wants to comfort her, he really does. But when he reaches out toward her, he hesitates. He doesn't know where to start, in their twisted, messed up relationship. His hand hovers tentatively above her hair, then pulls away.

If they had a real relationship, he would be able to stroke her silky chocolate brown hair, whisper reassuring promises in her ear, tell her not to cry. But he can't, he doesn't even know how. Because when he really thinks about it, their entire relationship is just...this. Nothing more.

He's not sure of anything, anymore.

.

Instead, he takes a walk outside.

The cool night air is so refreshing, liberating, compared to the confinements of his hotel room. Black strides down the empty streets lit by the warm golden glow of streetlamps, and at last reaches the famous Pokémon League stadium that he's seen on TV as a little kid. All the most preeminent battles in the world take place here, just like the one that's going to happen tomorrow for the championship.

Black knows the whole stadium by heart. When he was a kid, his quixotic dreams and far-fetched ambitions would all come to this one place, this sublime palace at the top of the world. In the eyes of Pokémon Trainers, the most exalted, majestic place that ever existed in the mortal world.

But now that he's finally gotten here, he feels lost among the sparkling stars scattered in the deep night sky above, unsure where his place in the world is. There is so much more to life than becoming the strongest, the most powerful of all. Because even if you are champion of humans, you are not yet God, and never will be.

Humans are selfish, superficial, he realizes. They only want to be the best, and they don't care about anyone else except themselves.

He paces around the battlefield once, twice, three times. He should be planning his strategy for tomorrow's battle, but his mind is blank and he can't bring himself to think about it. Because of this one cursed battle so important to humans, White has become forever broken. He doesn't even know if she's completely sane anymore.

They both know that Black going to win. He should feel like a real champion, the strongest Trainer in the world, but all he feels is empty.

.

After he sneaks back into his hotel room, he shuts the door carefully, careful not to wake White. Then he slips back into bed next to her, so she won't know he was gone.

If only because he needs some company, he silently calls out his Pokémon, and they cluster by his side. He pats Emboar's head and strokes Braviary's soft feathers and runs his hand over Carracosta's shell. They're excited, he can tell. They can't wait for tomorrow's battle, but then again, they don't know what a pyrrhic victory it will be.

Eventually, though, even Emboar notices something is up, probably because of his conflicted expression, and cocks its head curiously at him. Black shakes his head and whispers, "It's nothing. Go back to sleep, buddy." Recalling his Pokémon, he glances over to see if White has stirred. But she's as still as ice; the only sign that she's even alive is the slight rise and fall of her chest.

He resumes staring at the ceiling until the room grows lighter and the sun peeks over the horizon, signaling that morning has come, that the next day has finally slipped up behind him and sunk its icy claws into his shoulders.

.

It is the time he has been dreading. He and White stand across from each other on the battlefield, and only one of them can emerge as champion.

Briefly, Black contemplates losing on purpose, but if he does, she will never forgive him. She knows she's going to lose, and besides, he already gave her all the fun she wanted. Even if it's only enough to last a single night.

White keeps her gaze down, but when the spotlights flash on, the entire stadium—no, the whole world—begins cheering, and the starting guns are fired, she looks up and they lock eyes. Brown on blue. Her eyes are already dead, shattered like glass, and there's nothing he can do about it. The shallow desires of the world have sucked her in like a black hole, the principles of which decree that second place is never, ever good enough.

As soon as he throws the first Poké ball, he already regrets it.

.

_I would set the whole world on fire just for you._

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**author's note:**

Ok, to start off, thank you so much for reading! Personally, I actually really like this story. I love writing about broken, angsty relationships, and I think this is one of my favorites so far, but that's just me. Hopefully you were able to catch everything I implied. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and feedback is always appreciated!


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